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on doorsill I’m in
waiting breath,
waiting sight,
waiting sigh

they've gone at wink
wink-less day-
reminds it, 
draws silhouette

album of souvenir
brings the pages of-
the withered paddy field,
the yellow fallen maple leaves,
dried up tears

skeleton of Phantom IV
crawling outside
cockroach flies away
the ant go away line by line
sun is already setting down
there is no more horizon 
on doorsill I’m alone

-January 31,  2019 Chattogram

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 1/31/2019 6:00:00 AM
What a lovely, dainty, delicate poem. You have used the right balance to draw me in and intrigue me as I hear your feelings, and feel your reflective mood.
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